


I'll Drag You All the Way to Hell

by TORUKAisJUSTICE



Series: The Art of Stalking [5]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Shitty Timeline, Toruka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:58:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TORUKAisJUSTICE/pseuds/TORUKAisJUSTICE
Summary: He was only five year old back then but he’s sure—he’s definitely sure—that Takahiro was anangel, and that Toru is…Toru is…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, would you look at that. I was taking a break from writing and was searching for my drafts for How The Mighty Have Fallen, but I found this instead! This has been sitting in my folders for about...4 months already? This is written almost at the same time when I wrote HTMHF.
> 
> Disclaimer: OOR is not mine. The actions and reactions of the characters in the story are all but a product of my imagination. They are totally fictitious.
> 
>  
> 
> **ALSO: holyastronauts-san in instagram made an unofficial fansite for OOR~! It's cool! You can check it out here: www.oorers.com. Please drop by (or be a member) if you can! Thank you very much!**

_An angel…_

The first time Toru saw him, he thought that he had _finally_ died and was set free of this miserable, horrid world and that the heavens had sent an angel to fetch him or something.

A short, blushing angel with a fluffy, _bouncing_ curly hair. His wide, almond-shaped eyes are shining, staring straight at Toru’s very soul—making him conscious of his small, scrawny self.

_He’s so pretty_ , Toru thought as he shied away from the curious stares from the other boy, _and I’m so pale and ugly._

He loathes himself so much that he’s starting to think that the adults are just messing up with him. They’re probably looking for any sign of excitement from Toru upon breaking the news that a couple wanted to adopt a kid. They know— _everyone knows_ —how Toru desperately yearned for a family to _have_ him, for a family to _accept, care and love_ him. But he’s so thin, s small and so withdrawn that he had already accepted that no one—not even this rich-looking couple and their small child—would want him as a new member of their family. The staffs knows that and despite that, they still want to see how Toru’s fragile little hurt would get crushed by this…this…

_I don’t want that._

_I don’t want to be hurt again._

_Leave me alone…_

_Just leave me alone…_

_H_ is small feet subtly shuffled back, the hem of his old, overly-sized pajama bottoms were being dragged across the worn-out floor.

_No one wants me._

He just wanted to go back in their shared room and read and read and forget everything that ever happened today—

“Where you going?”

—but just as he’s about to turn his back, a small hand fisted itself on his shirt, effectively stopping him on his track. He slowly glanced over his shoulder, only to see those eyes looking at him in worry and confusion—something that he hadn’t seen for a _long time_ now. He felt something painful forming down his throat as he shyly averted his gaze—he couldn’t stand those adorable large eyes so he just mumbled his words while looking on the ground.

“…back to my room…”

He wished that the boy would just take the hint that he’s obviously uncomfortable by the intense gaze but no—he, instead, clutched his shirt tighter and barged into Toru’s personal space without so much as asking permission.

“But _whhhy_?” he whined, cute lips poking out in a huge pout while Toru is almost this close in bursting into hysterical crying, “don’t you wanna be my _ototou_?”

_Ototou._

Little brother?

Toru can feel his eyes comically widened as his confused little mind finally realized what the kid had just spewed out. His mouth hanged open as he looked up at the adults’ faces—instead of leering and laughing at him, they were all cooing on how adorable his expressions are—for confirmation.

“…this…” he gulped, tears forming in the corner of his tired eyes, as he looked down on the floor again—suddenly feeling happy and giddy and confused and worried and scared— _all at the same time_ —at that shocking news, “t…this is just a joke, right? Y-you’re making fun of me, ri— _ack_!” he screeched when a hand sloppily smacked on his forehead. His thin arms instantly rose to touch the now probably reddening skin of his otherwise usually pale face. Tears welled up on his eyes as he weakly glared at the one who just smacked him, “What’s that for?!”

“ _Baaaaka_!” the child chastised, putting both of his hands on his waist to appear like…a parent scolding Toru for mischief—which is not really convincing with those bright eyes and flushed cheeks, “’course this isn’t a joke! You’re gonna be my little brother from now on!”

_S-scary!_

Toru blinked and bit his thin lip to prevent himself from crying. This is kid is obviously _bullying_ him!

“Takahiro…” the suit-wearing father softly warned in the background, “You don’t go hitting other people like that,” he reprimanded, to Toru’s surprise, making the said boy’s— _Takahiro, what a noble name_ —shoulder slumped in defeat and repentance. Toru wanted to say that the kid hadn’t done anything wrong— _well, aside from suddenly attacking me with that chubby hand_ —and that he doesn’t deserve a scolding but Toru’s mind is too…dumbfounded at the moment as he processed the situation he’s currently into.

_Someone_ wants to adopt him.

_Someone wants to adopt me._

_But I’m…But…_

“Apologize to him, sweetie,” the woman said as she softly smiled at him—making Toru frantically avert his eyes in embarrassment. It was a long, _long_ time ago since he had been the receiving end of that kind of smile—a soft, gentle, motherly smile that reminds him of _home_ , that reminds him of _warmth_ , that reminds him of _happiness_. When the lady noticed that he had subtly retreated, her eyes widened in amazement before turning towards her husband again, “Oh! It seems that Toru-kun is a shy boy!” she cooed before glancing at his sulking son, “All the reason why you shouldn’t go smacking him. Apologize to him, Takahiro.”

“Hai…” Takahiro said as he twisted on his spot, his hand latching on Toru's clothes again, his chubby cheeks are burning red as he shyly looked at Toru with his large eyes, “ _Gomen ne_? I didn’t mean to hurt you, you’re just saying dumb things, that’s all—,”

“Takahiro…” came his father’s stern voice in the background, making the boy just huff in petulance.

“So, I’m sorry _nee_? He asked, batting those ridiculously long— _like a girl’s!_ —eyelashes on his flustered cheeks, before looking at Toru with pleading gazes. There’s really nothing to apologize for but Toru couldn’t stand those…those adorable eyes anymore so he just absent-mindedly nodded—his poor heart skipping a beat when Takahiro beamed a bright, tooth smile at him, “Yay! I’m Takahiro by the way! From now on, I’ll be your _oniichan_ , ne? Ne?” he said, squealing as he bounced on his spot—forcing the still shell-shocked Toru to jump along with him.

After getting an impromptu jumping session with the new kid, Toru realized that there’s really nothing worth celebrating. His mind has been in so much anguish that it refuses to accept the fact that someone is actually adopting him. So, he subtly slithered away, his tiny hands trying to pry those fists away from his shabby clothes, “I…I don’t _understand_..?”

“Hmm?” Takahiro innocently tilted his head sideways, his dark chocolate curls bouncing along his movement, “What is?”

“I…”

_You’re different from me._

Takahiro’s dressed with fine, cool and obviously expensive clothes while Toru wears the faded clothes of the older orphans who left the institution when they’re old enough. Takahiro’s skin is in a healthy, pinkish shade while Toru is _sickly white_ —as if he hadn’t seen the sun for _ages_. Takahiro’s eyes were wide, bright and so, so alive while Toru’s are expressionless, droopy and always bordering to perpetual boredom. Takahiro is energetic—Toru can imagine him bouncing from corner to corner even with those little legs of his while Toru couldn’t even run without _wheezing_ afterwards because of his thin frame. Takahiro was the sun—the _ever warm and blindingly bright_ sun in a clear sky while Toru is the _cold, unfeeling moon_ hiding along the darkness of the night.

Takahiro is an _angel_ while Toru is…

“B-but why…why _me._.?” he softly wondered—his voice, barely above a whisper but Takahiro had heard it all, while the adults just continue on talking about the adopting process and settling papers—no one even bothers on as asking Toru’s opinion, on asking whether he’s fine with it. His decisions doesn’t even matter anyway, _that_ , he’s painfully aware of.

But when Takahiro reached out, the next thing that Toru knew were those soft, chubby hands encasing his face like a warm blanket in a chilly winter night. He was startled with the sudden proximity of the other kid, but even before he can shy away, his panicked heavily-lidded eyes met those burning almond-shaped ones—effectively rendering him _speechless._

_Motionless._

_Breathless._

“’coz you look so _sad_ ,” Takahiro gently said, taking Toru’s face closer until their foreheads touched—warm ones against the cold ones—,”you’re so _thin and quiet_. I have a lot of toys and clothes and ice cream and toys—,”

W-why is he bragging his stuffs to me?!

“—and cupcakes,” Takahiro grinned at him. He smells like fresh _strawberries_ , like the _flowers_ in the garden during spring, like the sun during summer, Toru absent-mindedly noted as he stared at the zoomed-in face of the other child, “And I will share them all to you of you will come with me! I’ll feed you, cook lots and lots of foods for you, play with you and I’ll give you my clothes” he gladly declared, making Toru’s chest suddenly hurt in a _strange, unfamiliar way._

It was _nothing_ like how he felt when he learned of his parents’ death a few years ago. It was _nothing_ like how he felt when no one of their relatives wanted to take him in. It was nothing like how he felt when he ran away from his first orphanage because of fear, because of hatred and longing for his parents. It was nothing like how he felt when spent the chilly nights outside, ducking under smelly alleys when it was rained—his glassy eyes staring impassively across the busy sidewalks where people walk, where people chat, where people eat, _where people actually live_. It was nothing like the resignation and emptiness he felt when the social workers found him and made him stay in this orphanage.

He had lost _everyone._

Everyone had left him.

So this…

So when Takahiro casually drop those words—the things Toru had been craving, longing— _dying_ to hear since the death of his parents…

He can feel his chest tightening, making it hurts. It hurts so _much._

He couldn’t breathe.

_Am I sick?_

He couldn’t move his muscles and his eyes are stinging because of those tears again. He wants to cry because of _relief_ —because _finally_ , there’s someone who would want him, because _finally_ , he could go out of this place and see the world again—but, at the same time, he also wants to laugh because of joy but this whirlwind of emotions is just too much for his young mind.

“If you’ll be my little brother,” Takahiro softly held his hand and gently squeezed it in a reassuring manner, “ _Oniichan_ will care for you, and protect you and give you lots and lots of love, ne?”

_Protect?_

_Care?_

_Love?_

_Me?_

And then…

Toru couldn’t take it anymore.

And then Toru finally gave into his weaknesses, his knees wobbled in pure relief as he started bawling—howling for all the pains he had endured, crying for the loss of his everything—in the arms of his new family—like the child he was _supposed_ to be.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He was only five year old back then but he’s sure—he’s definitely sure—that Takahiro was an _angel_ , and that Toru is…

_Toru is…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He leaned back, licking his lips in satisfaction as he stared at the _alluring_ sight below him. His _beloved_ elder brother sprawled on the mess of sheets, hands pinned down by Toru’s larger, calloused one above his head—those almond-shaped eyes were _panicked_ , wide with confusion and worry and fear.

His cheeks flared red in exhaustion and his lips— _oh,_ those _sinful_ lips that produce the most _divine_ sounds that Toru had ever heard in his lifetime—were parted, puffs of air coming out as he panted after being roughly kissed for a full minute or so.

His sweater was ridden up—exposing the curves of his feminine-like waist—the flat, white expanse of his stomach was littered with reds and purples—bruises that Toru’s lips and teeth had made just a few seconds ago.

_Maybe I should also leave my marks on his thighs too?_

_So that he’ll know who he really belongs to…_

His gaze leisurely travels upwards, until their gazes met—panicked almond-shaped eyes met his burning heavily-lidded ones—reminding him of the first time they’ve ever seen each other, the time when his oniichan promised him everything—

And the sight alone of those glassy eyes, instantly rendered him _speechless._

_Motionless._

_Breathless._

“W-why…” Takahiro—his beloved _oniichan_ , his world, his love, his everything else—panted out, not attempting to struggle and escape anymore, “…why’re you doing this, Toru..?” he asked, voice cracking with pain and betrayal.

His quivering, broken voice hung in the air of the younger’s bedroom. It was dead-silent in there, their heavy breathings are the only things that can be heard.

Why?

_Why indeed?_

_Didn’t you promised that you’ll give me lots and lots of love, oniichan?_

_You did, right?_

“I don’t know,” Toru shrugged, feigning ignorance before a predatory grin spread across his thin lips, “But let’s not dwell on those details, ne, _oniichaaaan_?” he drawled before diving into that sweet, moist cavern he has been _oh-so_ craving for in these past few years—swallowing the muffled moans and grunts of protests from his elder brother.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_That’s right…_

Takahiro was indeed an _angel_ , and Toru is…

Toru is the _demon_ that will drag him all the way to hell.


	2. Everything I Love is Slowly Killing Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did something so plain, something so innocent became so dark and twisted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of the Dome Tour!
> 
> And that fucking We Are MV was soooo much for my heart. Damn those guys on IG who did a very awesome, very amazing job on cropping the very short scene of Toruka!
> 
> Also, am I the only one who's confused with the part where they were performing in a livr-house like hall? I thought it was a wrong clip but then I saw Taka's hair so...it was so nostalgic to see then in the small, cramped stage, it was so nostalgic seeing them in front of a small audience, it was so nostalgic seeing Taka wearing a long-sleeved shirt.  
> Ah...the feels I got was so much that I decided to make things done. Like this one.
> 
> I don't know if there's anyone who read this but anyways, this has been one of my dream fics to write since the beginning. The other two were still roughly drafted and so fucking light that I decided to hide them for now.
> 
> Anyways, this contains a lot of flashbacks so I apologize for my shitty story-telling shits. Also typos.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is purely fictional. Please don't sue me.

He couldn’t remember the _exact_ date when he started harboring these _sick_ feelings for his older brother. Toru had tried it before—every _damn_ night he spent alone and longing for any physical contact with his Takahiro—trying to trace the time when the _repulsive_ feelings started to bloom and spread its wicked roots throughout Toru’s system—but he couldn’t.

 

Perhaps it was because Takahiro has been so _adorable_ , so _kind_ , so _gentle_ , so _loving_ that Toru can't really tell when he had stopped seeing him as his mighty _Oniichan_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Perhaps, it was on the first week that Toru stayed in the huge mansion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He can still remember how his mouth hung open in disbelief as the car—the posh, shiny black car that Toru was so afraid of dirtying just by _touching_ it earlier—drived into a spacious lawn filled with grass and flowers and shrubs and trees so different from the dead Sakura tree in the orphanage.

 

_Maybe this is a mistake…_

 

His small, shaking hand tightened its grip on the small bundle he carries—a _few pieces of clothes which were his only belongings—_ on his lap. Maybe this is just a mistake, he can’t live in this house. He’s not _meant_ to live here, not meant to even _left_ the orphanage…

 

His pulse quickened as cold sweat breaks from his ashen skin, his eyes darting at the door of the car when it finally stopped in front of the huge house. It was the biggest he had ever seen and that fact doesn’t calm the panic that’s quickly envading his system.

 

Home—

 

 _I wanna go back_ —

 

“Toru?”

 

But even before he can really break down and jump out of the car, a pair of warm, soft hands landed over his own. He blinked, slowly looking up to see those wide almond-shaped eyes looking at him in worry.

 

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” he softly asked, and Toru wanted to say that _no_ , he's _obviously_ not okay, that he don’t wanna go inside the scary house, that he wanna go back to the orphanage where a _trash_ like him belongs but…but despite having this crippling fear of the changes in his life, Toru has still this…this _small desire_ to be together with him. Toru wants, _god_ , this is the first time that he _actually_ wanted something so even if his hands—his entire body—is obviously shaking in fear, he still shook his head in denial.

 

“N-no,” he said, as he relishes on the comfortable warmth of Takahiro’s—of his _Oniichan’s_ —hands over his, “I’m fine..just a bit nervous…”

 

“But _whhhhy_ ,” Takahiro whined before he pulled Toru—the bewildered and shaking Toru who can’t do anything but to widen his eyes in susrprise at the sudden contact, “There, there~!” he cooed, sloppily patting his back like a mother would do to his frightened child, “Don't be nervous, nee? I’ll be here all the time to help you, _nee_?”

 

Toru’s heart expands at those kind, caring words. These are all first times for him—this is the first time that someone actually showed _concern_ for him, the first time that someone _asked_ if he’s alright, the first time that someone _embraced_ him to comfort him, the first time that someone _reassures_ him—and it makes his chest hurt and makes him wanna cry because it was _too much_ for his fragile heart.

 

“A-all the time?” he croaked out, glancing sideways to catch the look of pure glee on Takahiro’s face. That smile alone was enough to make him feel better. Enough to make him think how realiable his new older brother is.

 

“Of course, _baaaka_ ~!” he said, before hugging him one more time, and this time, Toru had slowly, hesitantly hugged him back, earning squeals of delight from his supposed to be older sibling.

 

_Maybe…maybe this won’t be bad afterall…_

 

 

* * *

 

Of course it was easier said than done.

 

That night, Toru stared at the wide expanse of ceiling above him. He couldn't sleep despite having a room of his own. It’s not like he’s complaining about the room. In fact, he _doesn’t_ really expect to have a room of his own. He always thought that he’ll spend the night sleeping with Takahiro because…because that’s what _siblings_ do right?

 

But now…the room feels so _dark_ and _cold_ , so _large_ that Toru fears someone would just pop out of the corners and drag him into the darkness. It was so silent, save for his ragged breathing the the sound of the sheets getting crumpled by his fists. The bed is too soft, so big and yet so _empty_. He had tried on jumping on it earlier, because Taka said that it’s fun to do that so Toru obeyed—they jumped, bounced on the soft, cloud-like mattress with the older boy giggling and giggling even if he falls face-first on the huge bed.

 

Jumping and playing over the soft bed was _fun_.

 

But watching _Taka_ laughing and enjoying it, was even _funnier_.

 

But then night came, and after Takahiro lend him his pajama—

 

“This is my favorite, _nee_?” he said, giving Toru a green pajama with prints of…what was that? A lizard? A dinosaur? But why does it look _bored_? “But I think that you look like Gachi so I’m giving this to you!”

 

“Wha—,” his mouth hang open, not really following the course of their conversation anymore. If Takahiro _loves_ this pajama so bad, then why is giving it to Toru?! That doesn’t make any sense! “No!”

 

“No?” Taka’s brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the pajama on his small hands, “But why? You don’t want it?”

 

Then he blasted Toru with wide, glassy eyes as he tilted his head.

 

 _D-don’t look at me like that, mou_!

 

“I-I like it but…but that’s yours and you love it lots, right?” he said, twisting in embarrassment, “You shouldn’t give away the stuffs you like so much—,”

 

“You’re really an _idiot_ ,” Takahiro said, startling Toru. He snapped his gaze towards the older who’s now stalking towards him with a scary look on his face. _H-he’s gonna hit me?!_ His hand automatically raise in the air to protect himself from the inevitable pain— _he’s gonna hit me because I’m so stupid_ —but then, the expected hit never came.

 

H-huh—

 

Instead, Toru’s shirt—his old, battered shirt—was pulled out of his body by Taka, who’s standing on the tips of his toes to pull it off him, “Off you go~!” he said before tossing the shirt on the floor. Toru gaped at the older kid who’s now making him wear the sleeves of his pajama.

 

“W-what are you doing, Taka—,”

 

“Call me _oniichan_ , idiot,” he said as he buttoned the cloth with small, chubby fingers.

 

“B-but,” Toru protests, “What are you doing…oni…oniich… _Oniichan_ …?” he said, almost whisphering the last part. It tastes foreign on his tongue, but it also tastes somewhat _sweet_ and _warm_ , like a fresh milk before going to sleep, and Toru decided that he likes it—likes calling Takahiro _Oniichan_.

 

“I’m giving you this,” he declared, straightening the crooked collars of the pajama, “It’s important for me that’s why I’m giving it to you, _nee_? Coz I want the prettiest things for my loveliest _ototou_!” he then smiled—so bright that Toru almost melted on his spot.

 

He couldn't respond to that.

 

They were then called down for dinner and after brushing their teeth, they separated to sleep in their respective rooms. Taka—his _Oniichan_ promised that he would show Toru around the house tomorrow so he should sleep early. But…

 

 _If I could just sleep that easily_ …

 

Toru sighed and rolled on his side, facing away from the door as he stared on the fluttering curtains. He would try to sleep but—

 

The door creaked open behind him, allowing the sopft lights from the corridor to flood the room. What’s that?! Toru froze under his blankets as he halted his breath in suspense. _Who was that?! D-don’t tell me that there’s really a monster—_

 

“Toru…?” came the soft, now familiar voice from behind. All the tensions and fear swirling within him sintantly bubbled into nothingness as he recognize Taka’s sleepy voice, “Are you asleep?”

 

Toru instantly rolled over to see the older boy about to climb the huge bed. Taka is in his pajamas too, dragging a large green dinosaur plush-toy on the floor. His hair’s a mess and his eyes are starting to close in sleepiness.

 

“What…what are you doing here, _Oniichan_ …?” he asked, making a room for his new sibling. Taka didn’t answer immediately, not until he has properly settled under the blankets—his huge Gachapin toy nestled between them—lying on his side and facing Toru.

 

“ _Maa_ ,” he started, yawning adorably, “I thought that you’ll be…scared since this is your first night here so I…you know,” he shrugged, “I’m a good _Oniichan_ so I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, _nee_?”

 

Toru blinked at that. His heart threatening to jump out of his chest again. Why is he feeling like this whenever Tak— _Oniichan_ is saying something to him? Would he be like this for the rest of his life?

 

_I can’t stand this forever!_

 

It’s…it’s gonna kill him for _sure_ because this feeling makes his chest hurt and makes him wanna hug his _Oniichan_ for days and _days_ until he fall asleep against him. He wanna be comforted and coddled and spoiled by his _Oniichan_! And it doesn’t make any sense to Toru’s young mind because he’s usually used on being alone, being left behind, being casted out…but just after meeting his Oniichan, it made him want things.

 

Make him _desire_ things.

 

Make him desire his _Oniichan’s_ attention— _all of it._

 

“R-really?” he mumbled, watching as Taka—as his _Oniichan’s_ eyes flutter close at sleep claim his consciousness.

 

“M’ yeah…I’ll…here…till you…sleep…”

 

And then, just a few seconds later, Takahiro—his newly found older brother who promised him to stay until Toru fall asleep just a few moments ago—is now sleeping like a huge baby.

 

 _Whoah, that doesn’t make sense_!

 

But Toru wouldn’t complain because…because now that the other boy is fast asleep, he can freely stare at his peaceful face—his long eyelashes fluttering against his chubby cheeks, hair falling onto his face and mouth slightly pouting, mumbling incoherent words that Toru couldn’t understand—and realized that it doesn't matter if his _Oniichan_ fell asleep even before him.

 

So long as Takahiro would remain by his side, Toru would definitely be able to sleep at last.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Toru groaned as he opened his eyes. The sunlight filtering through the thin curtains are landing on his face, as if telling him that it’s about damn time to fucking wake up. _But I was just dreaming…_

 

He sighed and look at the wide expanse of his ceiling, thinking on how _lame_ he was when he’s still a child for getting scared to sleep alone in that room. He can't even recall his previous room clearly. Gone were the days that Toru would spend sitting alone in a corner, reading Takahiro’s old books and trying to learn how to play guitar while the older is busy learning to play piano.

 

_I wonder if he’ll play for me like the old days…_

 

_Old days huh…_

 

Toru rolled over to lie on his side, not even surprised to found his beloved _Oniichan_ sleeping beside him. The sheets were doing their job to cover most of his upper body, but it couldn’t hide the myriads of love bites and marks that Toru had left on the precious, soft skin of his brother. He eyed those blotches of purples and reds with a smug, lazy grin on his face as his fingers rose to give fleeting touches on the creamy jawline of his _Oniichan_.

 

But they can _never_ go back to those days, he thought as the memories of last night flooded his mind—Takahiro spread beaneath him, asking him why he would do such thing to his own brother and Toru turning a _deaf_ ear to Taka’s grunts of pains and howls of betrayal as he took him over and _over_ again until the lust and craving buried within him burns out.

 

But it doesn’t.

 

Because Takahiro didn’t told him the things he _wanted_ to hear, the words he’s _dying_ to hear from those puffy lips…so even after emptying himself deep within the warm confines of Taka’s body, he still felt _empty_. He tried touching Takahiro’s face, the way he usually does, but when the older teen flinched and averted his gaze, Toru felt a thousand knives stabbing through his heart.

 

It hurts…

 

It hurts like hell but he wouldn’t give up.

 

Taka is _his_.

 

When did he even started to think of Takahiro as his –as a prospective _lover_ —instead of a mere brother?

 

Toru sighed as he pulled the warm, unconscious form of his _Oniichan_ closer, dumping his nose onto the strawberry-scented locks—inhaling it, allowing the familiar scent sooth his system—as he tries to remember the exact date when he started pining for his dear Takahiro.

 

 

__

* * *

  
Perhaps it was on their first week of school.

* * *

 

 

 

 

Or rather, _Toru’s_ first week in school. He was enrolled in the same elementary school where Taka is studying. Toru was actually surprised to know that Taka is older than him by a two grades, despite looking and acting as if he’s younger than Toru.

 

“S-school?” Toru stuttered, looking up from the book he’s currently reading in the living area. Their mother was smiling at him, patting a new set of uniform that looks the same as the one Takahiro’s usually wearing, “I would go to school?”

 

“Don’t you want to?” Masako asked, tilting her head in confusion, “I mean, it’s good that you’re adapting in your new home quite easily—,”

 

That’s a lie.

 

He still hasn’t treated this house his new home. It was all thanks to Taka that he’s coping up with the sudden change in his life. His world revolves on Takahiro, his _Oniichan_ , right now. It has been a month since he arrived and since then, he had spent all of his time with the older boy— _played_ with Taka, _ate_ with Taka, _bathed_ with Taka, chased butterflies in the garden with Taka, _read_ books with Taka, and _slept_ with Taka. He didn’t find it weird, because everything seems a bit _brighter_ and _livelier_ and _happier_ whenever Takahiro is around, giving him bright smiles and kind glances and warm hugs before sleeping.

 

Takahiro is his world—his brother, his savior—his _home_.

 

“—but you should also make new friends at school, _nee_?”

 

 _But I don’t need anyone!_ His mind huffingly said, _as long as Oniichan is with me, I’m gonna be fine!_

 

But in the end, he couldn’t say it aloud because Masako has been nice to him since the very first time—cooking meals for them, buying him clothes and toys, and allowing Taka to sneak into his room every night. _And she's technically my Mom now so…_

 

Toru relented—albeit begrudgingly—and agreed on going to school, even if he knows that it wouldn’t end nice.

 

* * *

 

 

He thought it would be easy, but when the day came, Toru was so scared that he ended up clinging to Taka's arms like an octopus the whole ride towards the school. The adults find it funny— _cooing_ on how adorable they are wearing their school unfirom. Shinichi—their father—even took a day off to make sure that he’ll get a lot of photos of Toru’s first day in school. Just by thinking of having his ugly, pale face on a photograph makes Toru cringe in disgust and went latching on his _Oniichan’s_ arm.

 

He ignored the gushings from their parents. He ignored Shinichi asking Toru to look at the camera for a picture, and he ignored Masako saying how cute they are in their little uniforms. He ignored them all as he tries to focus into the warmth of his _Oniichan_.

 

“There, there~!” Taka patted his head—he dumped his burning face on the older’s lap to hide the intense blush on his cheeks from the unwanted attention he’s getting from their parents—as he whisper soothing words at him, “Don’t be scared, Toru,” he said with so much conviction that Toru almost— _almost_ —believed it, “ _Oniichan’s_ gonna look out for you, _nee? Hai, hai,_ don’t be scared…”

 

* * *

 

 

Toru tried to cling on those words. Toru tried to reassure himself that everything would be fine but Taka has to go to a different class, and in the end, he was left alone—in the middle of a room filled with strangers and kids looking at him as if he’s some kind of rare specimen—to _fend_ for himself.

 

It was…fine at first, but when the bell rang and Toru was about to exit the room and find his _Oniichan_ , some boys are already stalking towards him. He’s familiar with bullying—had experienced it back in the orphanage where older boys would pick on him for being so quiet, or the girls who’s usually fighting over him or something.

 

So when the first hit landed on his arms, he didn’t let out even a muffled scream of pain. He accepted it, every _harsh_ words, every annoying _snickers_ , every _slaps_ on his fragile, pale arms—all of it, _silently_. He remained quiet throughout the ordeal—wondering if Takahiro is already looking for him—and when they were done, Toru just pulled the sleeves of his uniform to his wrists, effectively covering the bruises and scratches.

 

He could live with this, as long as he can be together with his _Oniichan_.

 

The bullying went for _days_ because Toru is a coward who would rather let them abuse him than to tell the adults about it. But how could he tell them out? They were from rich family and Toru is just an _adopted_ one, and if not for the Moriuchi family, he will still be in that orphanage, silently _withering_ away. No one would believe him.

 

No one would take his side.

 

Well, that was what he believed, until on the fifth day of bullying, someone caught them in the corridors.

 

“You’re just adopted! Adopted!”

 

“No one wants you! That’s why your mom left you!”

 

“Sick! You’re sick!”

 

“You look like a girl, mou!”

 

“Stop looking so wimpy, freak!”

 

Toru cowered as those words stabbed right through him again and again. He thought that he has grown _strong_ enough to shrug them off, but no matter how old he thinks he is, in the end, he’s still a five year old kid who’s extremely sensitive with those kinds of insults.

 

“T-toru…?”

 

But then, amidst those cruel voices ringing through his head, he heard the familiar voice of his _Oniichan_. Maybe he had died and Takahiro is now going to get him or something, so he slowly raised his head—a long gash marring the side of his face as he looked on the small figure of his brother. Taka stood there, books lying on the floor around his feet as his eyes widened in _disbelief_ , in _shock_ , in _realization_ , in _disappointment_ , in _**anger**_.

 

Toru had never seen Takahiro _so_ _angry_ before. He just stayed there, on his spot on the cold hard floor as his older brother suddenly charged onto the boys—launching kicks and punches as strong as his small body could afford—screaming and crying ( _“How dare you do that to my brother, you—!_ ”)—as they all rolled on the floor in a mess of limbs and punches.

 

It was a _mess_. Toru would flinch whenever Taka would receive a punch or a kick, but there’s _definitely_ something wrong in his mind because amidst all those shouts, amidst all those cruel words that came from this brother's mouth, amidst the tears and snot and hair covering his _Oniichan’s_ face, Toru thought that Takahiro had _never looked so pretty as now._

 

It was a mess—a _beautiful mess_ indeed.

 

But Toru loves it because for the first time in his life, someone had _stand_ for him, someone had _punched_ another one for him, someone had _saved_ him from the dark world he never knew he could escaped with.

 

* * *

 

 

“Y-you’re…” he gulped as he watched his older brother sat beside him just outside the director’s office. Their parents were speaking inside, together with the parents of the boys who bullied them, leaving the two of them alone, sitting on the bench lining the walls. After their wounds and bruises were given medical attention, Takahiro has been ignoring him. He’s _not talking_ to him anymore, _not_ even _glancing_ towards his direction, and it breaks Toru’s little heart into pieces as the seconds ticked to minutes.

 

They’ve been together for just a month and he thinks that he couldn’t go a day without the older’s attention on him. _I will die for sure_ , he thought in horror as he watched Taka’s legs swing back and forth, the older boy’s face turned towards the glass doors.

 

Away from Toru.

 

 _He don’t want to look at me anymore_.

 

 _He don’t want to talk at me anymore_.

 

 _He don’t like me anymore_.

 

And then, and _then_ —Toru started sniveling. Hot, fat globs of tears escaped his wide eyes as he tried on reigning in the pain, the _fear_ , all the sounds he makes but it was just too much.

 

_I don’t want that._

 

_I don’t wanna go back._

 

_I wan’t…I wan’t…_

 

“Onii— _oniichan_!” he gasped, sobs wracking his entire frame, making Takahiro looked back at him in surprise, then confusion, before worry etched on his whole face, “ _Oniichan_!” he wailed as he clutched the older’s uniform through his bandaged little hands.

 

“Wha—,” Taka is instantly fussing about him, not minding the bandages on his cheeks, “What’s wrong, Toru? Are you hurt? Are you sick?!”

 

He shook his head, spraying salty tears around them as he helplessly looked at his older brother, “I’I’m sorry—I— _hic_!—I don’t wanna be a burden to you so I didn’t tell you that— _hic_!—someone’s mean to me! I’m so— _hic_!—sorry, I won’t d-do it again, so don’t be mad at me—don’t le—leave me, _Oniichan_!” words sloppily gushed out of his mouth as he cried all of his emotions out.

 

Takahiro just stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief before he suddengly launched at him—encasing him a warm, tight—so, _so_ tight embrace—his own tears flowing like waterfalls on his flushed cheeks.

 

“I won’t leave you, _stupid_!” he said, making Toru cries more—but this time, in relief, as Taka’s familiar warmth and scent washed over him—, “I’m just hurt that…that you kept this a secret from me! What if they do more mean things, to you, huh?! How would I rescue you, then? Just…Just rely on me more, you stupid idiot! And stop crying! You’re making me cry too, _mou_!”

 

* * *

 

 

They sneaked outside after Toru had calmed down. And after he had calmed his older brother down because Taka is still wailing and crying and won’t shut up until Toru made a pinkie promise that he won’t hide secrets—that they won’t hide secrets from each other anymore.

 

Taka led him—his hand tightly gripping Toru’s, as if he’s gonna just disappear—towards the bright Gingko trees lining the quadrangle of the school. The trees are huge! And there’s a lot of fallen leaves below them, being blown by the wind and forming heaps of browns and yellows and oranges.

 

It was so pretty!

 

Taka said that this is his favorite, secret place place during autumn and he’ll share it with Toru because he’s his _beloved_ baby brother—making him blush and twist in embarrassment again—before jumping over the mound of leaves—sending them flying in every direction.

 

Toru should tell his brother that the janitor might smack the both of them for littering and making a mess of the dried Gingko leaves, but he was too mesmerized at the sight of his pretty _Oniichan_ , jumping around, laughing—his face filled with band-aids and scratches—with his cute lips open wide. His eyes glinted under the setting sun, making it more shinier than usual as a vivid scarlet explodes on the apples of his cheeks.

 

It was such a _sight_ to behold—with all the blurs of yellow, and red, and oranges, and brown swirling around him, the sound of the dried leaves cracking beneath his shoes and the distinct crisp autumn air—Toru can remember it _all_ —the same way he can perfectly remember the maddeningly pounding of his heart back then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
He woke up with the sound of soft snifflings and restrained sobbings just across him.

 

With bleary eyes and sleep-hazed mind, he subconsciously tightened his hold onto the soft, warm body pressed against it, and planted chaste kisses on the exposed shoulder. They’re so soft, so fluttering, so adoring that he heard Takahiro gasp at the sudden contact of his lips on his milky white flesh.

 

“S-stop…” his older brother pleaded with voice so broken, so rough, so unlike his usual cheerful and powerful one—but to Toru’s _twisted_ mind, it sounds so sweet, so lovely, so erotic that he can feel his sleepiness quickly dissolving, “Stop this, Toru…”

 

“Why?” he murmured against the creamy skin, smirking when that obviously riled up his _Oniichan_. Taka instantly rolled over to face him, almost headbutting Toru if he wasn't just quick enough to lean back. Takahiro is now glaring at him in full-force, his eyes— _red rimmed and puffy_ —narrowed into slits and his mouth is pulled down into a deep frown.

 

“Why? _Why_? You’re asking me why?!” he asked in a hushed tone, probably afraid that someone would hear them, that someone would see them on a single bed, that someone would discover the taboo they’ve just committed—even being fully aware that they're living one with each other, “We’re brothers, Toru!”

“ _Adoptive_ brothers,” he said in exasperation, “We’re not _related_ by blood, Takahiro—,”

 

“Don’t call me that!”

 

“Then how?” a leering smirk formed on his thin lips, “Should I call you _Oniichan_? Even of we’re on a bed, naked, huh?”

 

“I _am_ your _Oniichan_!” he snapped before shoving him away. Toru stared at his brother as Taka moved into a sitting position, his face torn into something akin to pain, but he didn’t complained on it. Instead, he looked fine as hell, as if he’s not feeling the effects of what Toru did to him last night, “This is wrong, and you know that! And yet—and _yet_ —,”

 

Toru let his eyes wandered on the numerous discoloration on Taka’s neck, the tender part where it meets his shoulders, his chest, his arms, and stomach until it was covered by the blankets pooling around his waist. It’s so much, but Toru still find it not enough. Even if he had already marked _every inch_ of his brother’s skin, Taka still won’t look at him the way Toru does to him—Taka won’t still stay by his side, Taka would still leave him.

 

He licked his lips at that thought, “So, what now? You’re gonna tell me out?” he asked, earning a soft glare from his gentle brother, “Or…or you’re gonna kick my ass out of this house? Tell me that I’m a disgusting man for lusting over you? Call the police for forcing you?”

 

“What?” Taka asked in disbelief, making Toru’s heart clenching even more painfully. He knows what Taka would do—or _, what he won’t do_ —because no matter how rotten Toru had become upon growing up, Taka didn’t harbor any ill feelings for him. He scolded him, yes, especially during their teenage years but Taka never hit him, never raise his voice at him, never hated him and it would be a motherfucking understatement if Toru would tell that he’s glad for that.

 

Takahiro _spoils_ him too much, really.

 

And it pisses him off, because if Taka continues coddling him like this forever—then…then…

 

Isn’t it the _same_ as simply being brothers?

 

He scowled at that thought as he harshly rose in a sitting position, the sheets pooling on his waist as he did so. He ran his fingers through his messy bed hair, ignoring how Taka shyly averted his gaze away from his naked, upper body.

 

"I'll make breakfast for you," he grumbled before moving off the bed. He can feel his brother's gaze behind his back—which stings like hell by the way. Takahiro had made a mess out of it, _scratching and clawing,_ digging his nails to stop him last night butToru never regretted it. If he could hold Takahiro like that everytime, he would gladly— _proudly even_ —wear those bruises and red lines on his back loke fucking _medals_.

 

"B-breakfast?" he heard the rustling of sheets behind him as he put on his boxers and a large shirt. Both of them knows that Toru had little to none cooking skills but he don't care—he would learn how to cook so that he can feed his brother after each time they would make love.

 

Oh.

 

Toru smirked inwardly, _and I will make sure that there will be plenty of it._

 

"I'll see you in the dining room, _Oniichaaaan_ ~," he said, glancing at the confused face of his brother. He looks torn between trashing the entire room, slapping the hell out of Toru's face, and running after him.

 

But in the end, the older just defeatedly glared down on the sheets, his fingers curled into tight fists on his lap. Toru sighed and wordlessly went into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

He absent-mindedly throw the strips of bacon onto the smoking pan. He doesn't have any idea on how to cook anything—in fact, he can even set the kitchen on fire just by boiling fucking water, _seriously, how lame is that?_ —but he knows that his older brother loves American-style breakfast. He's probably dumb in the kitchen but he's read enough to know what an american breakfast entails—bacon, pancakes, eggs, hams and all other fried shit, right?

 

_But he doesn't eat eggs so...maybe I should improvise?_

 

Improvise on _what_?

 

What the fuck. Why is cooking so _difficult_? Why does his brother makes it look so easy whenever he prepares meal with Toru watching from their dining table? Why does his brother know all Toru's favorite foods, the shits he couldn't take, as if it's a piece of cake?

 

When did his brother, his _spoiled, charming, adorabl_ e older brother became a sweet, coddling, _mother-like_ figure to him?

 

 

* * *

Perhaps it was when their parents first showed signs of ther marriage cracking.

* * *

 

 

 

Toru can remember series of nights with _fighting_ and _screaming_ —sometimes, the crashes and clanks of expensive potteries and dishes being smashed onto the floor filled the eerie silence of their huge house. He was just 12 back then, barely past elementary when the once perfect relationship of their parents showed signs of _wavering_. His _Oniichan_ was 15, on his last year in middle school, and was often out of the house because of school activities. He's the ideal student, and Toru wants nothing but to be like his _Oniichan_ when he grows up. Even with their home is slowly crumbling into pieces, his _Oniichan_ didn't showed any signs of weakness.

 

He would still go home, smiling and whenever he sees Toru patiently waiting for him in their room—alone and surrounded by books and notes—he would grin and hug him, making Toru felt _loved_ , felt _cherished_ amidst the brewing turmoil in their household. Takahiro would always tell him that he should take a break and would teach him how to play the guitar.

 

At first, Toru was reluctant to do so because he believes that his Oniichan is meant to play the piano. Those pretty fingers were meant to be _soft_ as they touch and pressed the keys with feather-like touches, making sounds that resonated with Toru's soul as he sat beside his brother on that small stool in the music hall—not getting _rough and calloused_ by plucking and strumming the taut strings of a guitar.

 

But when Takahiro would laugh and cheer and smiled at him whenever he pressed a chord right, whenever he produced a pretty sound Toru never thought that a guitar could make, his heart would _froze_ —before suddenly going haywire and madly beating like there's no tomorrow.

 

So, whenever he's waiting for his brother, he would take that white acoustic guitar and immerse himself into learning to play it. He would keep himself busy— _blind and deaf_ to the ongoing war beyond his door. He thought that as long as his _Oniichan_ is happy with him, he would not care about _anything_ , about _anyone_ anymore.

 

Takahiro has been his world.

 

But then, one night, Toru had discovered that his mighty big brother is also crumbling, slowly falling into pieces. It was the height of the arguments downstairs, his brother told him to stay in his room, hushing him with a finger on his lips.

 

"Play the guitar for me, _nee_ , Toru?" he softly said, a small smile playing on his lips so broken yet so _pretty_ that it made him speechless. He nodded and shut the door, obeying his brother's words like a mindless doll.

 

He tried playing it—strum and pluck until the skin of his fingers went _raw and almost peeling_ —but everytime he hears a scream and a crash and the sound of slaps downstairs, he couldn't help but flinch and stop for a moment before resuming when he recalls his brother's pretty face.

 

He can hear shouts that sounds like:

 

"You're not even home to do the chores! And you're calling yourself their _mother_!"

 

"Well, I was busy working because someone won't properly support this family! And you dare to call yourself their _father_?!"

 

"Stop, just stop! Can't you see that you're ruining this family with your childish arguments?! Where were the both of you when we needed you?! When my brother was bullied in almost all of his grades?! When I failed the entrance exam in Keio?! When Toru spent his birthday alone last year?! And you call yourselves our _parents_?!"

 

The arguments went on and _on_ , harsh words and names being thrown towards each other. Amidst all those chaos, Toru kept on playing the guitar, his tears falling and staining the sheets of his bed as he sobbed in fear, in pain, in longing for his brother's warm, tight hug.

 

And after what it seems like forever, the shoutings ceased, plunging the house into another creepy silence. It was calm again. A _cease fire_. He expected his brother to immediately come towards his room, but minutes ticked by and he's nowhere to be found.

 

_Oniichan?_

 

He stood up and put his guitar carefully on the bed and stalked towards his brother's room. The door was ajar so he invites himself in and walked towards the en-suite bathroom. He can hear sobs and sniffles and curses making his heart tremble in fear and confusion because...

 

Why does it sounds like his brother?

 

He took slow, hesitant steps towards the source of the sounds, his heart madly pounding against his chest.

 

_But Niichan won't cry...he's big and strong and...and..._

 

His eyes widened when he saw his older brother, kneeling on the wet, cold floor. He was crying, sobbing, silently _screaming_ as he pulled onto his hair and clothes. There were bruises and scratches on his face and neck—things that weren't there before he left Toru earlier—making his vision went blurry for a moment as his ears were filled with the horrible sounds of his brother breaking down.

 

It was _awful_.

 

To hear your _strong_ brother cry like that.

 

It was _horrible_.

 

To see your _mighty_ brother fall apart into seams, to see him howling—battered, bruised, and _broken_ into thousands of pieces.

 

It was _weird_.

 

Because Toru had this strong, _strong_ urge to shake those shoulders, demand to know who did it—who dares to hurt his precious, _perfect_ brother—and stalked towards the perpetrator and destroy them like how they've destroyed his _Niichan_.

 

 _Niichan_...

 

His pretty _Niichan_ who _was_ full of life.

 

" _Niichan_..." he mumbled, tears rolling on his cheeks as he bowed to himself that he would protect him with all his might, to never _ever_ let him cry and how like this, " _Niichan_..."

 

His brother saw him, and istead of Toru comforting his mess of a brother, Takahiro shushed him and hugged him—mindless of his wet shirt and body—telling him that it's _alright_ , that _he's_ alright, that _everything_ will be alright, that he would do anything for Toru to have a normal, _better_ life in the future.

 

And Toru believed him because that's what his brother had promised. They shared a bath—a long, warm bath they usually do—after that, but there's something _different_ that time.

 

His eyes—puffy and red from all the pathetic crying he did earlier—went roaming on his brother's face. He noticed how pretty his _Niichan_ is—the matted hair clinging on his scarlet cheeks, those mile-long lashes covering his almond shaped eyes, his tall nose, and his lips—looking soft and red and plump like the strawberries in the kitchen. He gulped, wondering how they would _taste_ like. Then his eyes went down, towards the column of Takahiro's neck—watching the droplets of water rolled down from his shoulders to his chest, the procelain-like skin shining softly under the soft light. It was pink and supple-looking, making Toru wonders if it would _taste good_ if he would sink his teeth into those flesh.

 

Then his brother sprayed water on his face, making him snap out of his weird, twisted stupor.

 

Toru was 12 when he started feeling the burning desire to hold, to touch his _Niichan_ in a _non-brotherly_ way.

 

* * *

 

 

His _Niichan_ had _changed_ since then. The times he was out of the house grew longer, leaving Toru alone and anxious if his brother had just ditched him or something. He knows that he's a horrible brother for thinking like that, for _doubting_ his beloved brother's words but he couldn't help it. Not when he have _more_ time—now that his Niichan is spending more time outside—to himself, more time means more chances to play with himself, touch his member like any teenage boy would do, but instead of pretty girls he saw in the magazines and on TV, it was his brother's _face_ , his brother's _body_ , his brother's _voice_ that he was thinking off.

 

It was _wrong_ , he knows it, but every time his brother would not come home before dinner, like he would often do in the old times, Toru would start _missing_ him, _longing_ for him, _craving_ him. And before he knows it, his already in the bathroom, gliding his shaking fingers over his rigid, pre-pubescent member, thinking that it was his brother who's doing this to him. He would whimper and whined and call his brother's name— _Niichan_ , _Niichan_ —over and over again until he reached his release. Then he would stare at his dirty hands, stare at it as horror and guilt spreads through his entire system before he would shower to wash the shame, wash the _ill feelings_ , wash the _unsatisfied_ _desires_ away from his body.

 

Then he would wait for his brother like a diligent _ototou_ would do.

 

While wondering how good it will feel when he's doing it with the _real person_ —with his own brother.

 

* * *

 

Once, Toru caught his brother home. He just got home and upon seeing his _Niichan's_ shoes in the _genkan_ , he immediately dropped his things on the floor and hurried towards the older's room.

 

There was Takahiro, putting his precious things—gadgets, accessories, old consoles—in a huge bag. He looked so stricken to see Toru, but he probably looks the same because his brother smiled and tapped the empty spot beside him, beckoning Toru to close the door and come closer.

 

He hesitantly did, his eyes roaming on his brother's face. He looks so stressed, older, more _exhausted_ like he hadn't slept for years. He seems thinner, too, but despite all those negative changes, there was still his warm, sweet smile that Toru loves _so much_.

 

"Ah, I missed you so much!" he said, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. Toru did the same, burying his face onto his Niichan's clothes, instantly inhaling the familiar scent of his brother, the scent of safety, of security, of _home_.

 

"It's your fault, _Niichan_!" he whined, looking up at his brother's face as he fiddled with Toru's locks, "You're always going away, leaving me all alone here!"

 

He doesn't mean to be harsh, especially when he saw the flicker of hurt flashed onto his _Niichan's_ face.

 

"Ah, it's really my fault, ne?" he said before looking down at him with so much seriousnees in his usually smiling face, "Even if I'm always away and not by your side, remember that I'm doing this for _you_ , okay? You see my stuffs here?" he waved his hand into the room.

 

Toru let his eyes roamed into the once lavished room of his older brother. _Gone_ were the expensive stuffs. _Gone_ were the slick electronics and appliances there. _Gone_ were the branded clothes strewn all over the floor.

 

They were all gone, except for the old Gachapin plush toy leaning on the headboard.

 

His eyes went back towards his brother's face, brows furrowed deep in confusion, "Where..?"

 

"I sold it all, Toru," he said, wide-eyed and yet smiling like it's a normal thing to do, like being apart from your precious stuffs is nothing to him, "I'll have more money after I sold these stuffs," he was pertaining to the ones he's packing into the bag, "Then we could get out of here and live on our own."

 

But why?

 

Why would they go away from home, when Taka was the one who's so adamant of bringing him in when they first met?

 

Toru couldn't understand.

 

"I'm sorry that it had come to this," his brother sadly said, "I promised that this will be your home forever, that you will be happy here, but look what happened," he shrugged.

 

 _I am happy,_ he wanted to say. As long as _Niichan_ is here, he would be happy.

 

"They're filing for divorce, Toru," he said, looking down at him with such intense eyes, "They would decide for our custody and they would separate us—,"

 

"No!" he instantly latched onto his brother's clothes, pulling onto it so tightly, "No! I don't want to be away from _Niichan_!"

 

His brother smiled, which is _weird_ because Toru is panciking and having anxiety attack and here is his brother—smiling like nothing horrible is about to happen.

 

"I know, Toru, I _know_ ," his brother nods and pulled him closer as he started to sob his fears away, "That's why I'm taking all the money I can, while I still have time. I promised that we would be together, _nee_?"

 

He nodded against the wet fabric of his brother's clothes.

 

"I promised to give you a better life, a better home, so I would do anything so we could live on our own..."

 

He nodded, believing all those words softly whispered into his ears.

 

"No one could separate us, Toru," his brother exhaled a promise against his cheek, "So don't worry, nee? _Niichan_ will take care of you...always... _always_..."

* * *

 

 

Their parents divorced just a few weeks after that. Moriuchi Takahiro had become a _Morita_ , and Toru went back to being a _Yamashita_. And no matter what persuasion they did, Takahiro didn't yield. He fought for Toru's custody— _tooth for tooth._ And he won.

 

He rented an apartment, a small one with no bedroom at all. It was just a plain one with Tatami mat flooring, a kitchen, and a toilet and bath—his brother sheepishly smiled at him, apologizing for the shabiness of their new home and promising to get a better one once he get a better paying job—but Toru had _never_ been happier. His eyes were shining, mouth smiling so wide as he hugged his _Niichan_ so tight.

 

This was their new _home_.

 

This was his new home with his _Oniichan_.

 

Toru didn't mind it at all because even if he had to live in the _streets_ , even if he had to live in the _slums_ , under a _hole-ridden roof_ —he would do it. As long as he have his _Oniichan_ with him.

 

His _Niichan_ went to study doing all the household chores—from cooking to doing laundries, never allowing to help Toru because he's his precious _ototou_ or something. And while it tugged at Toru's heart to see his brother so exhausted and yet still goes to school every day, the smile and warm hug he would always receive whenever he gets home is enough.

 

For years, his Niichan has been his _mother_ , his _father_ , his _evertything_. And while Taka is busy juggling his school works and part-time jobs to make a living, Toru was also busy fighting off the strange feelings that just went stronger and stronger as days passed by.

 

It grew _stronger_ every morning he wakes up, face to face with his sleeping brother. His sleepy eyes would gaze at that peaceful, pretty face—watching as the sunlight slowly play across his flushed cheeks and feeling his calm, even breathing. Toru would keep watch until those eyes slowly, gracefully flutter open, revealing dark, hazed orbs. His breath would hitch at that, heart pounding and pounding as his brother lazily smiles at him, hugging him tight, before moving off the futon to prepare for the day. Toru would linger on his own futon a bit longer, trying and failing to calm his beating heart before rising up and rolling their mattresses away.

 

It grew stronger every time his brother would make him delicious meals—three times a day—even his bento to be taken to school. The girls in his class would make sour faces, asking who his girlfriend is for making such an elaborate lunch while the boys would sniff in envy because they could not accept that a stone-cold emotionless kid like him would have a girl that would make him such pretty good meal every damn day. Toru just ignored them all, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining as he heartfully ate the food his Niichan had made for him— _just for him._

 

It grew even _stronger_ when his brother would listen when he's playing the guitar—laughing and cooing and ruffling his hair when he hits the difficult chords—looking at him as if he's the center of his world.

 

It grew even _stronger_ when night falls, when they were lying side by side on the thin mattresses—their futons pushed side by side on the old tatami floor. Takahiro would talk about his dreams of moving out and living in a larger place, _where_ they can have their own rooms and larger baths. _Where_ they can buy and place more stuffs, _where_ Toru could play the guitar as loudly as he can without their neighbors shouting at them to be quiet and still. Then he would roll on his side, staring at Toru with soft gazes and smiles, saying that he was so _lucky_ to have him as his _ototou_. That Toru had changed him, for the _better_ , and that he would do the same to be the very best _Oniichan_ in the whole wide world.

 

A painful lump formed into Toru's throat whenever he says that because it was _he_ who's lucky to be _picked_ , to be _chosen_ , to be _privileged_ enough to be Takahiro's _ototou_. He wanted to cry and cling to his brother, especially when Taka would plan at soft, chaste kiss on his forehead, bading him goodnight, before falling into sleep.

 

He wanted to cry because he felt so _loved_ and yet...and yet...

 

He wanted to cry because at 14, he realized how _deeply_ , how _irrevocably_ , how _twistedly_ he had fallen in love with his own brother.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
_I wonder when everything started to change..._

 

Toru thought in a daze, not being able to pay attention as dark smoke bellowed from his pan.

 

"You're gonna burn the house, idiot!"

 

Even before he can blink out of his dazed state, he was roughly shoved away from the stove, his brother—cladded in his usual shirts and pants—already turning the flames off, and putting the scorched pan under the faucet.

 

_He didn't left me..._

 

" _Mou_ , I can't really leave you alone in the kitchen! You're a helpless case, you know that?!" he ranted before looking at him, both of his hand on his either hips. The shirt didn't cover the bites he left on his neck and shoulders. And the site of that exposed creamy skin makes his mouth _water_ in desire to bite it, mark it, _claim_ it.

 

His _Niichan_ paused when their gazes met, before he turned away to grab the apron and ties it around himself, "J-just go sit in the table and I'll make food. And don't ever go in the kitchen after this, got it?! I don't want you burning our unit, okay?"

 

Toru meekly nodded, his hands curling into fists as he moved towards the dining table—doing his best to prevent himself from just... _ravaging_ his brother right there and then. He sat, his eyes following every movements as Takahiro gracefully maneuvered into the kitchen and not long after, the heavenly aroma of food wafted into the air.

 

He had missed this.

 

He _would_ miss this, he thought as Taka diligently put the dishes on tha table like a dutiful wife—ah, he would make a good wife indeed—because he's sure that this would be the last time that his brother would do this.

 

Because Toru had _debauched_ him.

 

Because after _years_ _and_ _years_ of having his frustrations, of having his desires, of having his feelings kept within his system, he finally— _fucking finally_ —made a move on his brother last night.

 

And Toru doesn't have any plans to let him go—even if he have to _shackle_ his brother down, _cuffed_ him and _chained_ him on his bed.

 

He would do it.

 

_I would do it._

 

He paused when Takahiro sat himself and offered a soft thanks before digging in.

 

Since when did he harbored such possessive— _bordering to obsessive_ —feelings towards his brother?

 

 

* * *

Perhaps it was when his brother had a lover.

* * *

 

 

 

 

He was 17 and they finally made it out of that small apartment. His brother had finished high school and ditched entering the university to start working full time. He was working in a coffee shop and in a music store in the days. At night, he would be a waiter in the restaurant before coming home to Toru.

 

He had argued that he should take a job, to lift off some burdens from his brother's shoulders but Takahiro won't have any of it. He said that he should focus on his studies and as long as Toru is happy, then he's also content with his every day life.

 

Or so he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

At the start of his second year in high school, Takahiro would often come home later than usual. He would also go out even during weekends—his _only_ day off from work—the only days when Toru can _have him all for himself_. He was pissed and bitter like any teenage kid would, but he couldn't say it aloud because his brother seems happier, there were light skips on his every step, and he was humming more often than usual

 

And it pissed him off, especially when he saw them—well, Toru had _stalked_ his brother one Sunday morning—walking along Shibuya, holding hands and looking at each other with sickly sweet gazes that it makes him almost gagged in the sidewalks.

 

He hated it. Hated how a single girl could _take his brother away_ , how a single girl could change their daily routine, how a single girl could make his brother almost forget about him. Sure, Taka has not been neglecting him—he still does the chores and prepares Toru's meals—but all the actions were _hurried_ , all the nice conversations were _dropped_ , all the pleasant jammings in the Saturday afternoons were _forgotten_.

 

Just because of a stupid girl.

 

_I hate it._

 

_I hate it!_

 

So Toru had to change—he wanted his brother all for himself, wanted all his _attention_ , all his _actions_ , all his _thoughts_ focused on Toru. He started to act like a rebellious teenager, dyeing his hair blonde and getting his ears pierced.

 

Takahiro was so shocked that he almost rushed him to the nearest hospital, thinking that he had hit his head somewhere to change like that. But he shrugged that warm hand off, shrugged his brother's worried eyes saying that it's _Niichan's_ fault for not being here to notice those changes.

 

Taka stopped talking at him like he used to, but Toru could still feel those lingering gazes, those warm, fleeting touches when his brother thought he was sleeping, those concerned pat on his back whenever he comes home drunk and deeply inebriated.

 

And instead of feeling bad for all the troubles he made for his brother, Toru _relished_ on the warmth of his presence. His _Niichan_ is now looking at him like he usually does, before he had dated that bitch. His _Niichan_ is paying him so much attention at long last.

 

But it wasn't _enough_.

 

He's still dating the girl, so Toru had to make drastic moves. He skipped classes, got detained and suspended for bullying the lower years, drinking his free time in the alleyways of Tokyo. He traded his acoustic guitar—the instrument they both loved and played countless of times during their younger years, when everything was still _simple and warm and perfect—_ for an electric one and immersed himself with heavy metal music.

 

His brother was called to school for his behavior but aside from the long, disappoinred look at him, he never said a word. His _Niichan_ would always pull the cord of his speakers because it was so loud that the entire apartment building tenants were already filing complaints against them. But aside from a soft smack on his head, his _Niichan_ won't say _anything_ , won't do _anything_ any further.

 

And it pissed him off.

 

Because it wasn't supposed to be like that. His _Niichan_ should be looking at him _tenderly_ , with so much _love_ and _passion_ like Toru had been giving him all these years. His _Niichan_ should be hugging him, soothing his raging thoughts and telling him that everything would be alright.

 

That _they_ would be alright.

 

But no.

 

He kept on dating the girl and Toru was so _so_ close into losing his mind. Especially when he caught them kissing on their doorstep.

 

It was really shocking, to see a girl _latching_ on your beloved, like a fucking octopus, to see her kissing those plump lips that Toru _could only dream of tasting_ with his own, to see him enjoying it and...and—

 

Something within him _snapped_.

 

He growled, push the girl away, screaming at her to never ever show her face to his Niichan again. He was so angry, so frustrated, so betrayed by the person he loves so, _so fucking much,_ that he made an ultimatum at his shell-shocked brother.

 

"Choose!" he said, pointing at the direction where the girl hastily left for— _he_ was crying, his _brother_ was crying and everything was _crashing_ around him, making it hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to _feel_ , "You were always with her! You've changed and left me always alone for her! Where did your promises go, _Niichan_?! So fucking choose now because I can't take it anymore! If you...if you run after her then I...then I..."

 

"I'm so sorry, Toru—,"

 

He didn't even managed to finish his words because before he knew it, Takahiro—his _brother_ , his _home_ , his _solace_ , his _world_ —has already jogged past him, running towards the girl.

 

Toru stood in that corridor for a long time—eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. His limbs won't move, his entire body freezing in fear, in anger, in surprise, in dread, in _betrayal_.

 

His brother...

 

He just...

 

Just left him...for what? For _whom_?

 

For that _girl_..?

 

He was too hurt, too lost, too tired after that. He _could not remember_ how he made his way inside, towards the bathroom and in front of their medicine cabinet. He _could not remember_ how he managed to get that sharp, shining blade. He _could not remember how_ he strike it down his wrist, slicing across the skin, blood bubbling up from the torn flesh. He _could not remember_ how he falls onto the floor, crying and feeling empty within nor when the door flung open, revealing a flustered, crying, _screaming_ —

  
_Why are you here?_

  
_You left me for her, right?_

  
_So why..._

  
_Why..._

  
—Takahiro. He _could not remember_ how he mumbled his brother's name— _don't leave me Niichan, I'm so scared Niichan, I don't want to be alone again, Niichan_ —over and over again while Takahiro is telling him not to _sleep_ , not to _close his eyes,_ not to _leave_ him—because at that moment, _all that he can remember_ was pain—so much _pain_ , so much _longing_ , so much _sadness_ that they tear him into bloody pieces—leaving nothing but bitterness and this twisted, _manic obsession_ behind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading~!


	3. You and I Will Fall From the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrupted to the point of no return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that this is being written almost closely to the plot of HTMHF so I decided to change some shits. I apologize in advance because this has a shit ton of repetitive words. Also for the grammar mistakes, typos, and incoherency. Damn. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: OOR is not mine.

Takahiro has _always_ been a spoiled brat.

He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, getting all the attentions and the things he want—toys, candies, trips to Disneyland and every other places—except for _one thing._

A _sibling._

He had always wondered, _in his young, naive mind_ , on why his friends have lots of older and younger brothers whom they played with after school hours. They were obviously having fun, while Taka would just watch them from afar. He was an only child, the only child of a prestigious family who can give him everything he wanted.

_But why can't I have a little brother or sister?_

Eight year old Takahiro tilted his head in confusion, as he stopped playing the piano. He was still so small for it so he had to sit on his mother's lap to reach the kegs while she would step on the lever below, " _Nee, nee, Okaachan_?" he asked, fingers flying away from the monotonous keys across him.

Masako looked down at him, her bright eyes make him melt and just wanna hug her forever. But he pushed that urge down, coz there are more important things to do. _To ask._

"Hmmm?" she hummed as she leaned over and took on playing the keys of the song they're playing earlier, "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Why don't I have a lil sibling, Okaachan?"

There was a loud, unnecessary key that follow. Her nimble fingers stopped over the delicate keys before Masako peered down at him with wide, glassy eyes. Taka tilted his head up at her, wondering why her lovely Mom is looking down at him like that—like she’s _confused_ , like she’s _scared_ , like she’s _sad._

And Taka doesn’t want her Mom to be sad.

“Well,” she said after a long while, “Would you like to have one, Takahiro?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They went to an _orphanage_ a few days after that. Taka can’t really pronounce that word in one go because it’s a big word—add that to his bubbling excitement and he can’t even form words as he bounced on his seat, looking beyond the tinted window of their car.

He will have a new sibling today!

He can’t really understand how it will happen but his Mom said that they will pick up whoever Taka wants to be his sibling! Like a cake in the coffee shop! You should’ve seen how his huge almond-shaped eyes widened and sparkled at the thought of being able to pick his new family member!

Ah…I hope that it’s a cute, little girl…

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There were a lot of cute girls dressed nicely with ribbons and frills in the orphanage, all right. Taka tilted his head in contemplation as he ran his eyes over the line of children whose taking turns in introducing themselves. They’re cute, yes but…but…

Then something caught his attention.

There was someone moving—no, hiding—behind the old post. Taka tilted his head, curiosity hitting him like a brick. What’s that? He wanna know! _He would know!_ He glanced at his parents, good; they’re busy nodding and smiling to the cute little kids so Taka can sneak out of their attention.

What’s that…?

He slowly took steps forward, as silent as a ninja, towards the bundle of messy clothes behind the post.

And then…he saw a boy. He was sickly looking, smaller than Taka himself, and with wide, hollow eyes. He look like he hasn’t eaten _for years,_ making Taka want to give him all the candies he have in his back pack. But he had left it in the car… The clothes were also too big on his thin frame. _My shirts and shorts can fit him, right?_

Why does he look so scared? And…and _negl..negtec_ …eh? What’s that word again? When someone is not taking care of his _responsibl…reponsibil_ …eh?! Anyway, the kid also looks so sad as he longingly gazed at the line of boys and girls in front of his parents, like he wanted to be there but deemed himself undeserving of all the attention.

And it makes Taka’s heart sad and hurt. Maybe… _maybe I should pick him_? He’s not cute and pretty like the girls but… _but…I wanna take care of him_ …make him _smile…_ make his eyes _sparkle_ in joy…make him eat yummy cakes and candies…make him meet Gachi…make him wear cool clothes…make him laugh and talk and stay by Taka’s side…forever.... _and ever…_

Taka’s eyes widened at that thought.

“H-hello!” he softly whispered, making the boy jumped on his feet and run away from him like he’s being chased by a horde of zombies, “Eh?! _M-matte!”_

But he was gone.

Leaving this strange craving within Taka’s confused little heart.

He _would_ have him. He’s the spoiled young master after all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Being with Toru—the name of his adorable little brother—is strange in many ways. Taka has been the only child for years, and he expected that he’ll throw a gigantic tantrum on the thought of sharing everything he has for his brother, but no. To his parents— _and even himself, actually_ —surprise, Taka felt not hesitation whenever he give his things to Toru because he grew to love those unique expressions he got from Toru whenever he did so.

Those half-lidded eyes would always widen, even just for a bit, glazes and dimly sparkles like Taka had given him the _world_ —even if he only gave his favorite pajama to him. His _pale as snow_ cheeks will be dusted with pretty pink whenever Taka would laugh and smile at him. And whenever he listens to Taka playing the grand piano, Toru would sit beside him, his eyes trained on Taka’s little fingers as they fluttered across the keys and his cute, _perfect little mouth_ would twist into a faint, small smile that could make Taka’s heart pound like the drums in a Summer Festival.

Taka _loves it all_ —all the smiles, all the brightening up of his face, all the small giggles and shy laughter, the way Toru called him _oniichan_ in a soft, hesitant voice. Taka loves it when the younger would cry on his lap, when he would allow Taka to sleep beside him—watch as the moonlight dance on his _even-paler skin_ —whenever Toru would cling onto his clothes while they’re outside.

Taka loves it all.

So _much t_ hat he thought his chest would just…explode at the sheer intensity of it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

So that’s why he went all-out violent that one time when he saw someone bullying his brother in the dark corners of their school. He should’ve known that Toru would attract bullies with his small frame and withdrawn attitude. He should’ve known it whenever the younger would try to hide his wrists and when he would lie about the strange bruises on his face these past few days.

“I just…tripped on my foot,” Toru said once Taka asked him while their inside the huge baths tub of his room. Taka tilted his head in confusion, noticing how Toru would look away from him, his ears reddening to their tips— _like he’s been trying to tell a lie_ —but he didn’t paid too much attention to it.

Toru won’t hide things from him, right?

Apparently, _no._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was the first time he got into a fight. He doesn’t know how to kick nor punch nor slap but this is Toru they’re talking about. They’ve hurt his _precious_ little brother, his beloved _ototou,_ his gentle, _oh-so lovable_ Toru! And it snapped something within him. _He’ll do anything to protect his brother_ , he thought as he attacked those obviously taller and bigger boys _, I will never let anyone hurt him! He’s mine!_

And no one gets away with hurting or destroying what’s _his!_

Their parents were called after that. But he couldn’t care less, Taka would do anything, would cross any boundaries and would fight everyone even with his puny little body _just for Toru_. Ah, he would give up all his toys and gadgets just to see those pearly fat glob of tears rolling on the younger boy’s cheeks when he suddenly latched at Taka’s ruined uniform, his voice cracking as he sobbed— _oniichan, oniichan!_ —over and over again.

At that young age, Taka made a vow to himself. He would do anything to make his brother happy, to give him a better life and future, to give the entire world for Toru.

_Anything for his little brother._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

But fate was obviously not on his side.

His parents started arguing over petty things which grew worse as weeks passed by. At first, Taka would just shrug it off, at the age of 15 he knows that there is no thing such as perfect relationship. Everyone goes into this phase. But when their parents started avoiding each other, cussing at each other even when they’re in front of their children, throwing things at each other, Taka realized that things aren’t good anymore.

 _This is not_ what he had promised to Toru.

 _This is not_ the life that he wants his younger brother to have.

 _This is not_ the type of family he wants Toru to grow up with.

No, not at all.

Especially when he see Toru flinching whenever he hears the screaming and fighting downstairs, whenever his brother would crawl up to his bed at night to be reassured that everything would be alright— _that their family would be alright_ —, and whenever Toru would longingly stare at him whenever he leaves for school, as if he doesn’t want to be far from him, as if he doesn’t want to be alone in this creepy, huge yet empty house they once called home.

So, Taka had to remain strong, smiling, _caring_ for his brother. He would try to fix this thing, not because he wanted his parents to make up or something, but because he wanted Toru to grow in a normal, _happy family_. At 15, he knows that his reasoning’s are getting quite _weird_ but he couldn’t care less. Toru is _his_ to take care off, to protect, to _shield_ from anything that is nasty in this world.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Toru’s 12th birthday came.

They have always celebrated it with the whole family—his father, mother and all the house staff gathering around the long dining table, clapping their hands and singing their salutations to the celebrant. The hall will be filled with lights, the air wafting with sweet aroma of the feast laid over the table. Everyone is always smiling, greeting Toru like he deserves to be.

Taka could still remember how his _seemingly-always_ bored eyes would lit up, especially that one time that Taka played the guitar while singing _“Happy Birthday, Dear Toru~!”_ to him. His younger brother hugged him so tight, his frail arms linking on his nape as he cried tears of happiness and gratitude for Takahiro.

Ah…how he had missed those _years._

But now, Taka is stuck in this crappy car stuck in the traffic. The school had asked him to stay to talk about his future plans after graduation from middle school. Taka can’t say no to them so he obeyed but damn if he expected the talk to last for 3 fucking hours. It’s already past eight in the evening, past their usual family dinner— _ah who am I kidding? We haven’t shared a dinner for a few weeks now_ —and it sucks. The birthday greetings were over, Toru is probably watching movies or reading books or practicing his skills in guitar in the silence of his room now.

_Ah, what a lame oniichan I am…_

Taka sighed, his lips forming in a huge pout as he asked their driver to speed up for god knows how many times already.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The house was _empty_ when he arrived.

There were no decorations, there was no music, there was no sweet smell in the air— _nothing_. It was empty, silent, and dark. He asked the maid who greeted him at the door on where the party is being held, but she just solemnly shook her head, saying that his parents didn’t give any instruction to prepare for one.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“B-but,” his mouth went dry at the implications of that. They were his parents, they were Toru’s parents as well and no matter how shitty their relationship is going on right now, Taka doesn’t want to believe that they just _abandoned_ their child like that. Like _this_. “W-where’s Toru?”

The maid tilted her head, “He hasn’t go down for dinner, Takahiro-sama. We prepared his favorite food, too but…” she shrugs and said something else but Taka was already gone to hear it all. He stalked towards the grand staircase, taking two steps at a time as his mind reeled and reeled beyond his control.

Toru is _alone_ in their room.

Toru has spent his birthday alone in this house.

Where are their _parents_ who were supposed to greet him? Make him special for this day? Make him feel accepted and loved?

Where was Takahiro when his brother was waiting for everyone, for anyone who would notice that it’s his birthday today?

Where were they when Toru— _the ever reserved, ever patient, ever silent Toru who would rather get his ass kicked rather than make his oniichan worry_ —needed them this one day?

Taka gulped as his feet brought him in front of his younger brother’s door. He can hear the harsh strumming of guitar beyond the dark mahogany door. He fights off the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes, damn, he’s the oldest for fuck’s sake! He’s not supposed to crumble right now!

But…

But just imagining how Toru would occasionally look on his window, waiting for the people he cared for s much only to have the evening passed by without them…

His heart feels like being squeezed painfully over and over again as he desperately fight the urge to sob and just ran towards his brother to hug him, shush him, and apologize for being not there earlier.

_It hurts…_

It hurts so fucking much that he feels like he’s suffocating, like he’s being drowned by this unfamiliar desire to just fuck it all—he will take Toru away from this _family_ , will take him away from this house that gradually became his _prison,_ take him away from the person who couldn’t even give him a day.

He would do it, Takahiro thought as he gulped down again, before turning the knob, _I will fucking do it._

_Everything for Toru._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Everything went according to Taka’s plan. His parents were on the verge of divorce and the arguments over their custody went on and on. Taka would casually join the debate, telling them how horrible they’ve became—how they slid from being the perfect, caring parents down into just a pathetic excuse for a father and a mother. He knows that he’s just making it worse, putting gasoline into the open fire but he couldn’t care less.

Because every time that he remembers Toru’s crestfallen look on his birthday—how those heavily-lidded eyes were glaring at the door, fingers harshly _, cruelly, painfully_ strumming the strings of his guitar like he’s planning to make them snap or something—how he bit those thin, red lip to the point that it almost bleed, how he sniffled to prevent himself from just... _breaking down…_

It was too much for Takahiro.

He doesn’t want to see that expression on his younger brother anymore.

He would end this, even if it costs him  his real family.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

But then, he was still a teenager—brash and emotional as fuck with hormones wreaking havoc within him. His father has landed a slap on his cheek for answering at them—it resonated across their hall with a loud crack! And hurts like a _bitch_ but what made him crumble like a sandcastle washed away by waves were the fact that his parents could lift a hand on them..

What if he would do it to Toru, too?

_No, it can’t be._

Taka won’t allow that.

Taka won’t allow _anyone_ to hurt his pure little brother.

But after the fight, when everything was silence was once more and he’s inside the cold, solace of his bathroom—everything came crashing down around him. He can feel it all, the sting on his cheek, the fear, the pressure, the strong desire to just go _, go and take everything with him_ —take Toru and ran away from this family.

He doesn’t want Toru to see him like this— _pathetic and crouching_ on the cold tiles as tears streamed down his face like there’s no tomorrow but the universe is probably trying to fuck up his life even worse. Toru had seen him, his eyes wide in disbelief—like he doesn’t want to _believe_ , doesn’t want to _see and hear_ that Taka is sniveling like a wuss when he’s supposed to be the stronger one here.

When he’s supposed to be the pillar, the support— _everything that Toru can lean on to._

Toru run to him that night, _clinging and crying_ together with him as Taka desperately tried his best to calm him down. He ruffled his hair, wiped those ugly tears away from his red-rimmed eyes and ran his fingers over his back to soothe him, to comfort him, to tell him that no one could separate them, that Taka would _make sure_ that they’ll end up together amidst the looming divorce of their parents.

Toru nodded— _because he’s that obedient_ —and cried even more, believing Taka’s words like he had always did in the past.

 _I would do it,_ Taka inwardly said to himself as he lathered up the shampoo on Toru’s soft locks. They were sharing a bath—one of the countless times they did, with him leading on the edge and Toru sitting between his legs. The younger couldn’t see it, the way a wide, unusually manic grin formed on Taka’s full lips, _everything for you, Toru…_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t easy as he had expected it to be.

He needed money so he sold all his expensive stuffs and opened a new bank account where he can save all his money. He worked in part time jobs secretly as their parents get busier in dealing with their papers. Taka would stay out late, would go out early in the morning but not without checking out his little brother sleeping beside him.

He would ran his fingertips— _lightly, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings_ —on Toru’s smooth skin, loving the tenderness of it. A tired yet genuine smile would form on his lips as he reluctantly pulls away and get ready for yet another day. But it’s all right, it’s gonna be alright because sooner or later, those two oldies would separate ways and Toru would be left in his care.

But he needs to earn enough money to rent out an apartment, even a small one—something that he can call his home. Something that only belongs to Toru and him.

And so the days went by.

The papers were settled and Taka threw a huge argument about the custody of his younger brother. He doesn’t want to live with any of his parents anymore, and he knows it the same for them. So why not get rid of each other? That way, everybody would be happy.

Taka would be happy.

_Wouldn’t that be great?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You should’ve seen how ecstatic Toru was when they finally moved into their new apartment. It was small, barely furnished with old, worn tatami flooring. The walls have lots of hairline cracks and the bathroom looks like an axe murderer would just popped from it anytime. But amidst the simplicity of the place, amidst the horrible neighborhood they would be living, Toru’s bright smile wiped all his fatigue, all his anxiousness, all his inferiority away.

Just one fucking smile and Taka was already crying like hell.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Taka learned everything to make that shabby unit a warm home for Toru. He could not remember how many times he had cut his fingers while cooking, how many times he burned his hands with bleach while washing their clothes, how many times he sneezed and wheezed while dusting off the mattresses and furniture. It became worse when he had to go to school and work all at the same time, but then again, he wanted this home to be a place where Toru could go without any ill feelings.

He wanted this to be _perfect._

So even if his body is practically screaming for him to stop, just take a break, even just for a day, he couldn’t—he wouldn’t. He would go on and on, day and night, to move out of this place and rent a better one.

A place Toru deserves.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

But then, everything change one cold night.

He was so exhausted back then, so he had called Toru that he would just stay in the restaurant he’s working in for the night. But he couldn’t last a night without the sight of his baby brother’s sleeping form so even with his fatigue-ridden body, he trudged and dragged his feet back home.

Only to see Toru touching himself.

_It was…_

It was not the first time that he had seen a boy pleasure himself _, heck,_ he had watched a thousand porn to last a life time but to actually see your brother like that—sitting on _Taka’_ s futon, his back resting on the stack of pillows, his pants pulled down to his ankles, as his hand moved up and down on his member—was too fucking much for him.

He stayed on his spot, peeking on the small window of their kitchen, watching with wide, disbelieving eyes as his brother’s movements grew erratic. Toru’s face is heavily flushed, a bright blush painted high on his cheeks as sweat formed and rolled down his flawless jaws. Taka gulped, feeling the urge to just look away, because this is not right—watching his brother jerk off to some girl is not right, no matter how close they are but then, but then Toru had to open his mouth and said—

“Nii-chan…” he panted out, his voice rough and hoarse, as his moans grew frantic, “nii-chan, nii-chan!”

The chanting of his name was too much for Taka.

He slowly stepped back, _one, two_ —until his back hit the rusty guard rails of that corridor.

He couldn’t believe it.

Toru…

His precious, little brother who looks so _pure_ , who would glanced at him with shy eyes—Toru who looks and smiles and talk to him like a fucking angel is jerking off to his own brother? To Takahiro of all people?!

That’s…

_That’s…_

Taka absent-mindedly went towards the stairwell and goes downstairs, the fatigue and exhaustion already forgotten. He walked and walked until he couldn’t make any step forward anymore. He didn’t know where his feet took him, he didn’t know what time is it now, all that in his mind is the sinful image of his brother masturbating about him.

_And damn, if it wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever seen in his entire life._

He huffed, as he slid down in front of a closed establishment, before looking up at the murky Tokyo skyline.

He should be disgusted, heck, he should’ve just barged in and demanded answers and explanations from Toru. He should’ve told his brother that it’s _wrong_ , that he’s probably just being disillusioned, that it’s just infatuation he’s feeling for Taka.

That leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

_So what, would you prefer catching him jerking off to some random girl?_

_Would you prefer him breathlessly chanting a girl’s name while looking so debauched like that?_

Takahiro felt a hot knife slicing right through his heart at that.

_No, that’s absurd._

Toru loves him, needs him. Him and only him.

There will be _no girl involved_ , there will be no other person who would see that erotic look on his brother’s face in the future, because Toru was his since the beginning.

He had picked him up when no one wanted him, Taka had given everything up just to have Toru beside him, Taka had even chose him over his parents—worked for days and night tirelessly, without any rest—all of it for Toru alone.

So, no.

Taka wouldn’t allow it.

Not _now._

Not _ever._

He sighed at that, wondering how he ended up _so twisted_ like this. But he couldn’t help it. Toru was…Toru has been his _world_ , the _purpose of his life_ and the idea of losing him to someone else in the future is unacceptable.

Mine, mine. _Mine._

_He would be mine._

_I will do it,_ he thought as stared at his reflection on the window of a parked car across him—it was different, tired, older, and an unfamiliar, twisted _, slightly deranged_ smile was plastered on his lips, _everything for Toru…_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He went home before dawn the next day. As expected, Toru was fast asleep on his own futon. Taka’s own mattress is laid on his side, immaculately clean and if not witnessing it last night with his own eyes, Taka would never thought that Toru is into those things.

_Well, he’s still a healthy young boy after all…_

Taka wondered how many times his brother did that— pleasuring his name while thinking of Takahiro and chanting his name like a breathless prayer. He wonders on the thoughts in Toru’s mind, wonders how his brother see him in his wildest dreams, wonder how those perfect lips would taste, how those fingers would _fit…_

Damn.

Taka groaned before changing his clothes and lying beside his brother.

Toru would definitely eye him in disgust if he knows about this…this strange feeling blooming within his chest, he thought as he pulled the blankets over him _, hmmm…maybe I should think of a way to surely bind him to me forever?_

 

 

 

 

* * *

As usual, Taka thought of a brilliant plan. He was a spoiled young master after all, and even after losing all his riches, he can still get whatever he wants—especially when it comes to his brother.

There was this girl who had fallen head over heels for him. He could use her yes, a quick fuck and sweet words would do. She will have to do.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

It was on his second year of high school when he started going out with the girl. She’s pretty, yes, with a bust size that every boy would die for. She has long lashes, puffy cheeks and perfectly manicured nails but none of it appealed to Taka the way Toru’s features does.

He would always imagine his brother— _flushed and hesitant and whimpering_ —beneath him instead of the girl whenever they’re fucking in some random love hotel. He would hear his moans, his gentle words, his calloused hands touching Taka’s face every damn time.

_Onii-chan…_

_Onii-chan…_

But in the end, it wasn’t Toru. And Taka realized that he must act faster, before he _loses his mind_ over his own little brother.

 

 

He started staying out late, and even during weekends. He knows that Toru had noticed it too, the way he would act as if he’s always in a hurry, the way he would hum and skip on his steps like a damn love-struck kid— _which is humiliating because it’s the first time that Taka acted like that_ —, and the way he would give less time to his beloved brother.

He would feel bad, whenever he see Toru looking down, his shoulders slumped in defeat as Taka told him not to wait up for yet another night because he would be _“working”_ or something. He would feel like a horrible brother whenever Toru would longingly look at him, the way he would do when they were younger when Taka is about to live the house— _their house._

But then again, Taka would also feel this…this _twisted feeling of satisfaction_ because he had cause it, he had caused Toru’s demise and pain and longing.

_Fall for me…_

He thought as he smiled warmly at his now taller brother, patting his shoulder as he put his backpack on, “I’ll be back on Sunday, ne?”

“But…” Toru bit his lip in protest, his eyebrows furrowing in disagreement, “But we’re supposed to eat out tomorrow, nii-chan…” he whined, making Taka’s heart lurched painfully beneath his chest.

_Fall even harder for me…_

_Until you can’t get out of it…_

“Next time, okay?” he said, celebrating at the look of pure hurt and betrayal that crossed his brother’s face, “I’ll be home, next time, I promise…”

But the next weekend came, and Takahiro _wasn’t there_ as promised.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Toru started to rebel after that and Taka watched it all. He dyed his hair when it grew longer, pierced his ears and started wearing black outfits. It suited him, the way those eyes grew even sexier, the way his lips turned down in a perpetual frown, the way those jaws became manlier as weeks passed by.

 _Suddenly_ , it wasn’t his sweet, pure little brother anymore.

 _Suddenly_ , Taka was looking a t a stranger, a good-looking young man who could make shivers run down his spine just by looking at him.

It’s not Toru anymore…

It’s not his _precious ototou anymore…_

And Taka could not be any more thankful for that.

Even if Toru would always get into fights, even if the younger would attract a shit-ton of complaints from their neighbors, even if he would skipped most of his classes—Taka just silently watched it all as they unfolded right before his eyes. He would fixed his brother’s injuries, talk to their nosy neighbors relentlessly and go to Toru's school as many as he could without saying anything while _inwardly celebrating._

Toru is doing this to attract his attention.

Toru is _jealous_ over that girl.

And that thought made him want to grin like a maniac. Ah, he’s efforts are not futile after all. He could do this…Just one more push…

_Make him dependent on you even more._

_Make him fall for you even more_.

 _Break his heart and mend it for him_ —until Toru can’t see anyone else but you, until Toru can’t love anyone else but you, until Toru can’t need anyone else but you.

 

 

 

 

* * *

He didn’t expected that sudden turn of events.

He just wanted Toru to have this…this desperation over him but didn’t expected the younger to actually try ending up his life when he saw Taka kissing a girl.

* * *

 

 

 

 

Of course it was purely intentional, the way he timed that particular kiss to happened when Toru arrives—the way he angles his face so that Toru could see his— _fake, forced_ —bliss while kissing the girl. It was the main act, the climax of Taka’s plan to destroy his brother and pick his pieces.

So when his brother made him choose, he made up his mind. This is it. He relishes at the look of pain and betrayal on his ototou’s face and basks on it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Even before Toru could finish his ultimatum, Taka is already running towards the girl. He was grinning all the time he’s been running, his curly hair lashing on his face as he did so. He reached her, grabbed his arm and smiled apologetically at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said as his finger curl on those familiar thin wrists. The girl is sniffling, his eyes bleeding black with all the mascara running down his cheeks. God she was such an _ugly_ crier. How could he even dated this girl for months?!

The girl huffed before nodding, “Y-you choose me, right? Right, Mori-chan?”

Taka tilted his head, a wide smile painted on his lips as he raised his right hand to pull the stray stands of hair off her wet face. He gently tucks it behind her ear and leaned forward, “No, actually, I’m here to break up with you…” he happily declared.

“What…” the girl’s face morphed from shock to disbelief to humiliation to indignation and finally, _anger_ , “What do you m-mean?! Y-you chased after me, right?! Right?!”

Taka blandly smiled at her. Ah, how dumb, how insensitive can you be, little girl?

“I’m so sorry,” he shook his head, “My brother is more important than me…”

He wasn’t able to finish that sentence because a resounding slap landed on his cheek.

But he couldn’t care less.

Toru is waiting for him…

In their own home…

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

So imagine his surprise when he arrived in their unit, to find it empty. The door to the bathroom was empty so he hurried towards it only to see his brother laying on the cold floor, sitting on the pool of blood leaking from his wrists.

Taka’s eyes widened at that sight of his helpless brother, his ears couldn’t hear anything but those heart-wrenching pleads, _“don't leave me Nii-chan, I'm so scared Nii-chan, I don't want to be alone again, Nii-chan—,”_

_No, no._

_This couldn’t be happening—_

He kneeled before the slumped, weak and pale form of the brother he loves so much, cradling his head and telling—pleading him to not close those eyes, to not fall asleep because if he does, and didn’t wake up the other day, Takahiro would surely lose his mind. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed, wailed and screamed for help— _for anyone_ —to save his little brother.

_No, no, don’t do this Toru…_

_You can’t do this to me, no, no, no!!!_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

That incident was like a _wakeup_ call.

Toru woke up the next day, his hollow eyes looking at Taka’s exhausted form. He stared back at those heavily-lidded eyes, smiling and ruffling those blonde locks.

“Nii-chan…” Toru rasped out, as he slowly reached for Taka’s wrist, “You’re here, nii-chan…”

Taka grinned down at him, his eyes glazing in gratitude for being able to see his brother alive once again, he smiled, smiled and cry all the same time, ignoring how Toru’s eyes darkened for a moment, ignoring how he gripped his wrist so tightly that he almost break it.

 _It was painful,_ but Taka would deal with it.

Even if Toru has to punish him, even if Toru has to hurt him—he would _endure it all._

Everything for Toru…

_Everything for him…_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Things gradually went back to normal after that, and it bugged Taka to no end. Yes, his brother is still looking at him like he usually did before the suicide attempt but Taka couldn’t read his thoughts anymore. It’s like…Toru has _grown older_ as the days passed by, like he had matured _even faster than Taka could._ He wonders when did Toru started building walls around him, not letting everyone—not even Taka—to enter it. He wonders when did Toru started hiding his feelings, his expressions all his emotions behind a mask of _indifference._

And it _irked_ Taka because he feels like they’re back into being normal brothers again. He would clean Toru’s wounds, cook for him, tidy up his uniform before he goes to school, the goes home early to prepare for dinner. He doesn’t want that! He wants Toru _obsessing_ over him, l _usting_ over him, going _crazy_ over him!

Taka wants Toru to burn like the way he burns for him

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“We...” Taka said once they’re having a dinner. It was simple, dried fish and miso soup and perfectly cooked rice—the way Toru loves back then but he always feel like he had prepared a feast whenever the younger would smile at him in gratitude. “We’re not gonna hide secrets from each other, right…?”

Toru’s chopsticks stopped midway in the air. He slowly looked up at Taka, his brows knitted in confusion as he urged him to continue, “…Hai..?”

Taka blinked at his brother. Well, it’s now or never. If Toru won’t act then Taka would just have to push his limits once again, right? Once more.

One last time before his sanity leaves him for real.

“So…I just…I just wanted to tell you that I…I…” the words kept stuck into his throat. He swallowed hard, watching as Toru’s expressions morphed from confusion to realization then anger before he masked it down again. Damn, why are you hiding those emotions from me?!

“I’m dating someone right now.”

 

 

* * *

 

Toru’s chopsticks went flying as it broke into halves.

* * *

 

 

 

Apparently, that was the last straw.

The last push that his seemingly calm brother needs before he goes batshit insane over Takahiro.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He couldn’t’ remember the _exact_ details of that night because he was busy giving his best on acting—crying and sobbing and _pretending_ that it Toru is hurting him, that Toru is taking him against his will _when all he wanted to do_ was linked his arms over that sweaty neck and pull him closer, kiss him _deeper_ , marked him as his the way his younger brother planted a shit-ton of bruises and love bites all over his skin. He was busy crying out and groaning when Toru pounded into him over the dining table, before carrying him towards their bedroom without even pulling out _when all he wanted_ was to grind harder, push his ass more and take Toru in—take him all into him because, _dammit._

It was the best sex he had ever had.

“Why…” he panted out, sheets bundled up within his fists as he dared to look up at the looming figure of his brother, “Why are you doing this Toru...?”

_Why only now?_

_I’ve been waiting for years, dammit!_

Even if he had screamed his voice raw, even if head bruises along his hips, and even if he can feel something inside him tear—he relished it all— _all the pain, all the blood, all the cuts_ —because finally, _fucking finally_ , Toru is looking at him like that again.

“No— _ahn,_ no, stop _ahh s_ top it!”

_No, no, don’t you dare stop! Don’t!_

Eyes half-lidded, glazed with something dark, something akin to manic obsession as he drives deeper and deeper into him. He bit his lip in concentration whenever he’s not busy peppering kisses over his shoulder, biting and licking and sucking over and over again that makes Taka groan and almost forgot that he’s acting like a man being debauched by his beloved brother.

 _And god_ when he came, it was a sight to behold—Toru throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he bit his lip while he emptied himself deep within Taka— _and god,_ for a moment, Taka thought that he would die at that. His chest was about to burst as he witnessed his brother reached his completion, his eyes stinging with more tears because finally, he had witnessed it first hand, because finally—after _months and months_ of pining and doing dire things—Toru is…Toru is finally embracing him like he’s supposed to be.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Taka numbly chewed the egg inside his mouth. The breakfast is so silent, save for the sound of their munching, the clacking of utensils against their porcelain bowls and plates. It was so calm, so peaceful with Toru sitting across him, eating and stealing glances at him—like the calm before the storm.

Taka cleared his throat, “W-we…” damn, he would really bag an award for his splendid acting skills, “We should talk, Toru…” he softly said as he peered up at the younger teen. He saw Toru stopping his bites before looking at him with the most smug look he had ever seen at that handsome face.

“Talk,” Toru spat as he did the same, putting his chopsticks over the rim of his bowl, “What’s there to talk about, oniichan? Like how would you call the police the next minute to have me jailed or something?” he asked as he leaned back on his chair.

 _Gone_ was his precious brother who would run to him with open arms.

 _Gone_ was the sweet little Toru who would cry when Taka would leave him for an hour to practice playing piano or something.

_Gone was his ototou._

And it’s his entire fault, but damn if he would regret it.

Never.

He furrowed his brows at that, “Why would I even want you behind the bars, Toru? You’re still my ototou—,”

“Stop it!” the younger teen swept his hand over the table, taking all the dishes and pushing them off the ground with loud clanks. Taka blinked at the sudden aggressiveness, it is the first time he had seen Toru angry like that but instead of getting scared, he actually _felt excited_ at that.

Damn. There’s really something wrong in my head, huh?

“Even if I just raped you, you’re still saying that!?” Toru stood up and reached across the table to gripped his shoulder and roughly shook his shoulder—

“I-it hurts—,”

“—stop that! How can you still see me as your brother, huh?! Even after all the things I’ve done, how can you still shoved my feelings away like that?!” he said through gritted teeth while Taka just blankly stared at him with wide, wide eyes, “I love you, oniichan, Taka— _Takahiro_ —for all these years, I’ve been in love with you! And brothers don’t do that, don’t developed this...this sick feeling within him! So don’t… _don’t…_ ” Taka’s heart shattered into thousands of pieces when Toru’s strong, deep voice cracked at that, “…don’t call me that anymore…because I’m not…I don’t want you treating me like your stupid brother who follows you around! I’m not! I’m a rotten,”

No.

_I’m the one who’s rotten._

“—spoiled piece of shit—,”

No.

_I’m the one who’s been spoiled here!_

“—who really, really wants to fuck his brother all day long!”

No.

_Well, me too!_

“It’s not normal, I’m not _normal,_ so don’t go looking at me like that!” he said before roughly shoving him away, making him almost stumble on the chair behind him. Toru looks so confused and hurt and god if Taka didn’t celebrated at that.

_Broken, he’s clearly broken._

“I’m so messed up,” Taka slowly advanced towards Toru, desperately trying to prevent that triumphant smile from splitting across his face, “I’m so fucked up I—I—,”

“Shhh, Toru!” he hushed as enveloped those manly jaws between his cold hands. He was standing on his toes because Toru’s hormones decided to have a growth spurt but he couldn’t care less, especially now that he’s near his prize, “Don’t call yourself like that! You’re may be an idiot but you’re not fucked up, _you understand_?! You’re not!” cue the tears springing out of his almond-shaped eyes as he glared at the taller teen who’s looking at him with wide, confused eyes, “You’re not fucked up, you hear me?!”

Toru shook his head in denial, in exhaustion, “D-don’t do this to me, oniichan…don’t brush me away like this…it’s not…it’s not simply infatuation…it’s it’s…” his knees wobbled, sinking on the floor and taking Taka with him.

 _Of course,_ Taka wanted to laugh, _it’s obviously not infatuation_. It’s downright obsession, and he wanted, planned it that way, remember?

“Shhh, shhh, I know…” he nodded, his heart breaking at the sight of his brother crying and sobbing like the child he used to be years and years ago, “It’s gonna be alright, I’m not…I’m not sending you away, ne? You’re the only one I have, the reason why I’m living so calm down, okay? Calm down, shhh,” he chanted, his fingers running through honey blonde locks.

He rocked their bodies back and forth, whispering comforting words to his brother’s ears while Toru dumped his wet face on his shoulders—his arms hugging him so tight, so warm, so close.

“I don’t wanna be just your brother anymore…” Toru whined against the fabric of Taka’s clothes, “I want you to love me as a man not…not…”

“Hai, hai,” Taka nodded, “We’ll figure things out, nee? Just believe in me, okay?”

“I don’t wanna be alone, nii-chan…”

“It’s okay, I won’t leave you…”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me, nii-chan…”

“I’m not mad, dumbass…so don’t go crying like that again, okay?”

“But...I hurt you…I hurt you and I…I…” he pushed Taka away to show him his wide-eyed, deranged face, “I can do that again…lock you up and chain you here…”

Taka had to swallowed as the images filled his dirty, twisted mind. What the hell. He can imagine himself being alone in this unit, his ankle cuffed and chained into the bed as he waits, longs, and craves for Toru’s touches all day long…

A shiver runs down his spine at those thoughts.

“…and make you cry and whimper and force you to say that you love me…” Toru then glared at him with so much intensity that makes Taka’s hairs stood on their ends. It was threatening, it was frightening, it was fucking _arousing_ to be at the receiving end of those looks, “…would you still want to deal with someone like that, huh, nii-chan?!”

_Are you really asking me that?_

_Of-fucking-course Toru, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment!_

Is what he wanted to scream on his brother’s face but he couldn’t, lest he would expose all his pretentious shits, so he just nodded instead, the urge to just smile so wide is getting stronger and stronger.

“Of course,” he nodded, as Toru eyed him warily, like he’s searching for any trace of lies—he won’t find it because Taka can’t even know whether he’s lying or not anymore—and deceit, “Of course, Toru, I’ll be here…always… _always_ , nee?”

Toru looked at him for a while, which reminds him of the first time they’ve met each other. The time when Toru was still a scrawny little kid, thin and pale and craving for love—the time when he viewed himself as someone who’s _undeserving_ of Taka’s attention, of _Taka’s love_. He looks scared, wary, suspicious but Taka _knows,_ Taka was _so fucking sure_ that in the end, Toru would still agree to him, Toru would still say _“yes”,_ Toru would still be his.

“So…so…don’t speak of yourself like that, ne?” he asked before hugging his brother, tight, resting his chin on the wide, broad shoulder that once upon a time can fit into his arms, “ _Takahiro_ would stay, _nii-chan_ would stay…and I won’t let you be alone anymore…even if you do those things over and over again, I will never leave you, okay…?”

Taka’s smile slowly grew wider— _manic, twisted, dark_ —as Toru eventually nodded, his hand gradually wrapping themselves around Taka’s frame, making him want to burst into triumphant giggles as he relished at the warmth he craved for so fucking much.

“ _Nii-chan…nii-chan_ …” Toru whimpered against his clothes, and Taka felt his heart expands like hell.

“I’m here… _Always here_ …” he said, and for a moment, Taka thought that he had seen white feathers fluttering around him. Maybe it’s his screwed little mind playing tricks on him, maybe it’s because he finally succeeded on his plan he devised years and years ago…maybe it was because the once pure little angel Toru, his previous brother…is now _corrupted to the point of no return._

Taka hugged him even tighter, a wide grin spreading on his full, swollen lips.

_Ah…this will be good…_

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Toru has been his _white, pale angel_ and Taka is…

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Taka is the _demon_ that dragged him all the way to hell.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
>  Please tell me what you think of it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> Related arts:  
> [chibi Toru and Taka](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bklyh1QBK0n/)  
> [ENDING](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bklyh1QBK0n/)  
> [COVER, MAYBE?](https://www.instagram.com/p/BoEZLzHgphT/)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what do you think?
> 
> And thanks for reading~!


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